Outside the Maze
by MacCharlie14
Summary: 'Where do I start? I can't start here. Here is a mess. But there is that quote...'The beginning is the best place to start.' quoted by the movie star actress: Julie Andrews. Died in the twenty-first century. I don't think anyone then would even imagined the human race falling in this way.'
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Please let me know what you think? Good idea or not? COMMENT

Where do I start? I can't start here. Here is a mess. But there is that quote...'The beginning is the best place to start.' quoted by the movie star actress: Julie Andrews. Died in the twenty-first century. I don't think anyone then would even imagined the human race falling in this way.

The start is difficult to define, because I don't know where exactly my story begins. My first memory is hazy, and bright. I woke up in a white, pristine room. Strapped to a thin bed. Snippets of classes and other children follow, but it is all so unclear. From what my 'caregivers' had told me, I was given away from my birth parents, to be trained and educated, in hopes of giving a generation of children better futures than their own. But I don't recall any of that.

I don't even know that I actually had parents.

My memories become clearer as I enter my teens: I moved into a new facility by the name of WICKED. World in Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. I hadn't seen much of the outside world, nor do I remember living out there, but I do know about the Flare. The Flare-caused by sun flares, is one of many causes that the human race is nearly to become extinct, but it is the only cause which still remains as a threat at large today.

It is a disease which targets the brain, starting with the frontal lobes-the part in charge of judgement, and then slowly disintegrating the rest of the brain, turning victims into highly dangerous and deranged beings. And by dangerous and deranged, I mean people that consider cannibalism as part of a day to day normality.

WICKED, is a research centre, trying to find a cure to this world wide disease, and save the remaining one percent of people who are immune to the illness.

I am fortunate enough to also be immune.

Around the same time I moved to the facility, I was introduced to two new people, both of whom had their memories wiped of their previous lives as well.

Their names are Teresa and Thomas.

We were set to discover a way to put an end to the Flare, and come up with ways to test immunes and learn from their brains. No scan or dissection could tell us where to look when we didn't even know what we were looking for, so we decided we needed to put a group of people, immunes vs normal, and figure out what is going on in their heads when put in a situation.

I came up with the idea of putting volunteers through physical, academic and mental examinations.

Teresa and Thomas took it a step further.

"We need to put them in a isolated world and see what they do in real time." Teresa started.

"Yes. We need to put them in a safe but challenging environment, give them a mission, like a puzzle to solve. See what they do."

I had objected, as their ideas grew further, and talked about wiping memories and using children. Thomas came up with a maze. Teresa mentioned terrifying machines, which are now known as Grievers. The assistant director of the whole organisation, Janson, loved their ideas and immediately gathered his group of scientists to work on developing their ideas more.

I didn't agree with much of the ideas and had eventually got pushed away into another team as they saw I would no longer be cooperating in the development on what was soon to become the maze. I was then working with the study of the brain and creating scientific hypothesises on how it would react.

A year later, I was fourteen, and was preparing the capsules for a child who was to be called Alby, when he enters the maze. Alone.

When he was pulled in by a pair of soldiers, I had to stand back, for he was thrashing around, screaming mad. No wonder why. He knew he was to be put in the maze. He knew he was to have his memories taken. He knew he was to never see his family again. Or even remember them.

Once enclosed in the capsule, I entered the codes and instructions and pressed the button.

Blue substance filled the insides, drowning the boy in it's goo. He pounded on the glass. Kicking. Crying. Fists balled, smacking repeatedly, begging for this not to happen, but it was too late. Mere seconds later, the thrashing ceased and the blue substance fizzled before being sucked down the drain. Tubes snaked out with lights blinking, and pumped the remaining solution out of his lungs before the capsule opened with a hiss.

Janson came in, followed by Chancellor Ava Paige with another soldier pushing a gurney. They then escorted the boys body to the caged elevator, placing his body in gently as if they cared before locking him up. I was then ordered to monitor the elevator in the computer security room and send him up when he awakes.

That was the day the Maze began.

Every two weeks, resources and supplies were delivered, and every month, a different child was sent up. Each one was a boy, each with a new name. I controlled little robots called beetle blades. A long metallic body much like a centipede, with red light emitting out from the eyes and WICKED smeared down it's body, looking much like blood.

A visual would be sent to the computers from the beetle blades, and each time a child was sent up, a beetle blade would discreetly join the growing population in the glade.

It was fascinating to see a strong community formed and land developing quickly into a farmland. Curiosity had got the better of them and eventually they were searching beyond the walls into the maze.

It was painful to watch as a year had already passed, and progress had slowed. Regularly I compared notes with my group, group A, with another colleague, Josh, with his notes on group B.

Group B was the controlled group of group A, and was made up of similar characters as group A, except they were girls instead of boys. The developments of both group we consistent with each other, and both had slowed significantly in the passed two to three months.

Thomas and Teresa, whom I rarely talk to now, have nearly perfected their plans in the trails for the cure. It was after a year of the maze did they approach me. They pulled me over to a private area that as far as I knew, was not monitored.

"We have finished planning." Teresa began.

"And?" I stated.

The two of them then went on to explaining that when they eventually enter the maze, I am going to have to program their minds to connect, so they can talk telepathically. After the maze, they were to come back, and the plan was, I need to get one of the gladers, to attempt to kill Thomas, but they knew one of the kids, who was not yet in the maze, would save him. Group B were to have a similar experience, except no one was to save the girl. That would be one variable.

"Then what?"

"Then, we need you and the crew to get us out of here and to facility Containment." Facility Containment is where the children who has not entered the maze is kept currently and would be their home after the maze. Also testing and monitoring of the human brain is done there also. "Can I trust you to drive us out of here on a bus?" Teresa questioned. Mistrust lacing her statement.

I nodded.

"It's not like I have a choice. We have no other hope." I replied mournfully. I hated the idea of testing these children. Knowing that some of them are going to died. Not to mention the suffering they would go through.

I thought of one of the kids in the glade. He had been there a few months now. A runner. I have seen him with his friends, and he always pitches in. But I have seen him alone as well. The hate of being in there.

He's sad.

"I know you hate this, (y/n) but this is for the cure. Trust the system." Thomas said.

"WICKED is good." The words rolled off my tongue, and laid out in front of me as if it was black and white. It is good. We are doing good. This is for the greater good. But I have always wondered how much of that is true.

A few months later, and soon, from both group A and group B, children's lives begin end. One by griever and going insane. Another by a simple but devastating construction sight collapsing on them.

Too young.

I moved my beetle blade round to the entrance of the west door, thinking that I had seen a glimpse of someone jumping up onto the wall and climbing it. The scene before me confirmed my thoughts. The boy I had noticed as being the somewhat cheerless and alone often, scaled the wall using the vines and vegetation.

"What are you trying to do, boy?" I mumble as I open the filing cabinet next to me for children already in the maze, looking for his identification.

Dirty blonde hair. Thick British accent. Newt...yea that's him. I pulled out his file, scanning down the page for any specific details. The only thing I saw of any interest was that he was not immune.

I snapped my head back up at the screen, just in time too see him throw his body off the wall, crunching down into the stone and sandy floor below.

He remained unmoving from there.

Flicking keys and pressing buttons, I span back around and headed back to what they called their 'homestead.' There was Alby giving orders. I had to get his attention. Only ten minutes until the doors close. I know I shouldn't interfere but a kid just tried to commit suicide. Something has to be done.

I whirled around Alby's feet, as he tried to kick back in frustration, missing every time. After some cursing, I managed to manoeuvred away in such a fashion, that hopefully it looked like I was having a malfunction. This could be enough to set off some curiosity for him to follow me to Newt.

It worked.

As soon as I got within one hundred meters of the maze door, he didn't need me as a guide. Newt was still crumbled on the ground-unconscious. He was carried off to the med-jacks. His ankle was broken, and probably would never heal right, unless someone from here took him in, but that wasn't going to happen.

Newt was depressed. He hated it there, and thought it was as simple as taking his own life, but I'll just have to keep an eye on him. He just needs to wait out this whole experiment, and it'll all be ok.

A/N

COMMENT please.

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	2. Chapter 2

Gardening is very relaxing. Many said it was therapeutic and helped with ones health. I tried it once myself as an experiment and despite all of my green beans dying, the last thing I would say is that it was a waste of my time. The soil here is far too acidic to sustain life. Even common desert plants. Here in the WICKED facility, there is a small isolated green house, but because we rely on it greatly for food and medications, access is restricted to all. Specially programmed androids are coded to care for to produced and harvest them when ready as they are more precise than a human will ever be.

In the maze, one of the jobs there is named the 'Track-Hoes' which is known here as a gardener, and produced most of the glades food. This is possible because of the uniquely generated earth the covers their patch of land in the glade. It had taken ages to design it and apply the formula to the soil from the outside world. The soil we use for our gardens aren't even as good, because of the amount of resources and time it took to create, but ours is closer to the glades than the outsides.

The lean boy with blond hair, Newt, was transferred to the track-hoes after recovering(more or less) from his suicide attempt. This gives him time alone, without the pressure the maze puts on runners. I wouldn't go as far to say that he is exactly happier with his existence, but he is certainly much more stable.

After talking with my colleague, Josh, we came up with the conclusion that Newt's outburst of 'insanity', the word I believed Josh used, was due to the flare. I had found other reports, which detailed the medical history of every test subject and learned the Newt had contracted the flare recently before going into the maze, but was given a shot of the 'Bliss' to delay any effects.

Newt had been in the maze for months now, and the stress must have built up the reaction between his brain and the flare causing irrationally (proven by the jump), but now, without the stress of being a runner and finding a way out, the effects of the flare have seemed to significantly slowed. Hopefully this will last until we find the cure, but knowing what is coming ahead of them, I don't know how many will be left.

The odds are against him.

Today, the second last boy is to be placed in the maze. I prepared the capsule for him scanning briefly over his file. Looks like he's immune.

Glancing up, I see a small, pudgy wee boy shuffling along side one of the soldiers. I smile friendly, guilt stirring inside of me. He was so scared and so little.

I motioned for him to step up into the capsule and mumbled softly, "Keep calm, everyone has been though this and lived through it fine. You'll just feel a little sleepy. It's normal."

His eyes seemed to ease as he exhaled a breath he must have been holding. I don't normally comfort the boys entering the maze, but he was different. Different because he didn't shout and scream. Neither did he cry or try to escape. He merely shuffled his way in, almost in such a way that showed his acceptance of the situation and what was coming, but fearing it at the same time. He was was also by far the youngest boy to enter the maze, being only twelve years of age. Three years younger than the second youngest boy.

Routine continued and I entered the code to activate the capsule.

As the substance filled the space inside, I watched as the little boy changed from a ready and prepared expression, to a horrified one as this was not what he was expecting. His wide blue eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't think of a way to reassuring him now. So I watched as he struggled and flipped around before unconsciousness pull him down, reducing his movements to none at all. Heavy sleep flushed through his body.

I glanced down at the file I was holding.

Chuck.

When I looked back up, he was already removed from the capsule and placed into the cage. That was my cue to return to the computer security room.

Next month, is Thomas' turn followed by Teresa the day after. Josh and I having finished the programming for a microchip that will enable the two controlled variables from each group, to be able to communicate telepathically. For my group, yes that is Thomas and Teresa. In group b, it is a girl named Rachel, Thomas' equivalent, and a boy called Aris, Teresa's equivalent. Now it is just a matter of transferring the codes into the device. A trial run through to ensure all functions correctly will be in order. I'm sure Thomas and Teresa will enjoy that.

Night time came again, and even after most of my colleagues had left for the day, I remained at the desk ensuring all was in order.

The boys as usual, were huddled in groups under the starry night sky imagery. It looked what I thought a clear twilight sky would look like, but I wouldn't know.

Here the night sky is too polluted, and despite all the sun that burns down upon the land, brown hazy fumes from factories and burning buildings covered the real sky like a blanket. Never had I seen a sky full of stars. Who knows if I ever will now.

The 'Keepers' slept in the homestead. Among these boys was Newt. Not a keeper, but now, second in command. I would say he always was, but it was only not long before his injury did it become official. I snuck the beetle blade up past the window just to make sure he was there this time. Occasionally I wouldn't find him there, but if that was the case, I would always then find him in the gardens.

Tonight, he was there. Not asleep, but he was there. Sitting. Fists clenching, resting against knees. Rigid back, controlled breaths. Dirt remaining from the gardens blackened the tips of his nails and smeared down his neck, just below the ear. Deep brown eyes looked black in the shadows cause by the night.

He is a rational type of guy, and he knows something with him isn't quite right. He's trying to fight it. But that can only make it worse.

That night, I didn't make it back to my room. Instead, the desk was as good as any bed by the time I looked away from the screens. Josh woke me up, along with a rich mug of coffee.

"Thank you, Josh. That's very thoughtful." I say, with a lazy smile playing on my lips.

"Ya sound surprised y/n! Am I becoming that unpredictable?" Josh gasped, mocking an offended tone, but without managing to keep the smile off his olive coloured face.

"You have always been the unpredictable one." And it was true.

Josh denied, naturally, and I teased back. He made me chuckle a little. It had been a while since I had some fun. But the little machine stored away in the corner of the room interrupted us, clicking away as it printed off our daily paperwork and work schedule. Suddenly I felt the weight of sleepiness swell in my stomach.

After lunch, I accompanied a team of surgeons, to the operating theatre to install the telepathic microchip into Thomas and Teresa head. For the surgery to be guaranteed to have complete success, the chips will be inserted at the top of the neck, also know as the base of the head. This way it can also be easily removed if required.

The operation took only ten minutes roughly. I returned to the computer security room to activate the chips. From there, a series of tests were ran on Thomas, Teresa and group B individuals. All appeared to be functioning fine.

Teresa seemed to pick up the skill for telepathic communications. Thomas had some difficulty though, but that was up to the both of them to figure out how to communicate with one hundred percent success.

Josh's children from group B seem to have gained understanding on how to communicate successfully at least.

The Glade remained unchanged. The runners ran. Builders challenged each other. Med-Jacks attended to Builders injuries. Everyone was putting in their part, which was one of three reasonable rules they had there.

Life must be sweet. To have a place in the world. To live simply. I do very much envy them, but I can't forget the fact that out here, they are test subjects. Some even go as far as to forget they are children all together. Sometimes I even forget that.

I was never allowed to meet the children before they entered the maze, except for Thomas and Teresa that is. I believe they did meet them on occasions though.

The next month would have to be dedicated to preparing for the return of the surviving children. I look forward to meeting some characters in person, but it would strange also. I have watched them for months. Learnt all their names, and they haven't go a clue who I am.

One more month, and everything changes.

A/N

I am going to have to study up on scorched trails (who knows how long that will take) but next chapter will hopefully be the last one based in the maze. I am doing from the book, and when the part based off death cure comes along, I will try and see if the ending can be altered in anyway...

COMMENT, REVIEW, CRITIQUE. Just let me know what you think :)


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